


The Ways of the Lord are Inexplicably Stupid

by Paclipas



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Castiel Knows What's Up, Castiel and Dean Winchester Have a Profound Bond, Castiel in the Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Castiel is such a Dad, Chuck can eat a bag of dicks, Conversations in the Impala (Supernatural), Dean Winchester Uses Actual Words, Episode: s15e09 The Trap, Episode: s15e12 Galaxy Brain, Episode: s15e13 Destiny's Child, Existential Crisis, Feelings Realization, Friendship/Love, Jack Kline Needs A Hug, M/M, Sam Winchester is also there, Season/Series 15 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:54:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23360497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paclipas/pseuds/Paclipas
Summary: "Say what you want about the end of times looming uncomfortably close in the future, at least it meant Dean had more than enough excuses to keep himself busy. There was no time to examine too closely what had happened in Purgatory. Or rather what had been said. Or more specifically what hadn’t been said."In which Dean struggles with a realization that comes as a surprise to no one but himself.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 1
Kudos: 131





	The Ways of the Lord are Inexplicably Stupid

**Author's Note:**

> So I don't know about everyone else but I'm vibing with those last two episodes pretty hard. This little add-on piece came to mind. Hope y'all enjoy it in these weird fucking times. 
> 
> Stay home. Stay safe. Re-watch Supernatural.

Say what you want about the end of times looming uncomfortably close in the future, at least it meant Dean had more than enough excuses to keep himself busy. There was no time to examine too closely what had happened in Purgatory. Or rather what had been said. Or more specifically what _hadn’t_ been said.

_You don’t have to say it. I heard your prayer._

The words kept echoing in his head for days after they made it back, this time with no man left behind. A part of him was unsure if Cas had meant for it to sound like he got the true meaning behind Dean’s words or if that was his paranoia throwing in its two cents. Probably the latter. Cas knew him pretty well, but his mind reading days were long over. There was just no way he could know about those traitorous three words that had been dancing just at the tip of his tongue when he had realized Cas had made it to safety. Besides, if the angel did know more about what was going on in Dean’s head, he was clearly playing along with not acknowledging it under any circumstances.

Plus, _Dean_ hadn’t even known he’d wanted to say what he was now afraid to even think about. And here’s the thing, he kind of didn’t want to say it at all. Not really. Not now.

What was it with Purgatory always digging up those goddamn feelings?! Rationally, they lived in emotionally tumultuous times, a little confusion was to be expected. Sam had once told him about a psychology experiment that showed people could confuse an unrelated adrenaline rush with being attracted to someone. And while Dean wasn’t into in any of the science-y stuff his little brother was always throwing his way... Well. Let’s just say he’d definitely had his share of adrenaline rushes in Cas’ presence these past weeks.

It would be so easy to keep it at that, move on push everything down together with all the other things that Dean couldn’t deal with right now. That’s what booze was for, after all. This time around, however, not even the familiar numbness of one or two bottles too many could quite drown out the echo. What did help a bit was falling back into familiar patterns now that Cas was hanging around. The friendly banter, the eye-rolls that could at times even rival Sam’s bitch faces, Dean found himself responding to them like it was muscle memory. Like the past couple of years of wrongdoings and mutual disappointment hadn’t occurred at all.

The biggest eye-opener, however, came with Jack’s return. If anything, he’d expected the anger to come back full force once he saw the boy again, but the other shoe just didn’t seem to drop. Whatever he’d let go of back in Purgatory it clearly extended to the kid. Dean wasn’t naive, of course he couldn’t go back to trusting Jack, and Sam clearly felt the same. What he _hadn’t_ expected was the way Cas’ pure joy at the reunion tugged at his own heartstrings. He could swear Cas had smiled more in a week than he had the entirety of the decade they’d known each other. And not to sound overly dramatic but Dean lived and breathed for it. The way Cas’ mouth curled up just the slightest bit, or how his eyes seemed to light up with mirth… It made his tongue itch with unspoken confessions all over again and all the liquor in the bunker was powerless against the overwhelming rush of emotion.

Still, he wouldn’t be Dean freakin’ Winchester if he didn’t continue business as usual. As far as he was concerned he was being discreet as hell. Maybe he sometimes tried a bit too hard to play the tension between them off with a joke, like when they’d shared a companionable victory drink just before Jody had called. Or maybe he was just becoming addicted to that goddamn smile. Either way, things were… good. Yeah. No need to ruin anything by getting sentimental.

And then Cas had basically gone and killed himself. Indirectly. The idiot. This was exactly the sort of thing that Dean hated about dealing with the guy, His stupid suicide missions. Had he learned it from him and Sam? Probably. But that was beside the point. The point was... well. It was getting lost somewhere between the desire to lay a wet one on the angel or punching him in his smug face. Half of which was almost as terrifying a realization as Cas’ near-death excursion. Anyway. At least it had worked and lead them to the Occult artifact, so Dean couldn’t be too mad.

Not that he had much time for that anyway because their main focus now was the heartbroken nephilim on self-imposed hunger strike in his room. Punishing himself. Dean remembered the way Sam had acted after getting his soul back, or how he himself had come down from the Mark of Cain like from a bad trip. There was no pain like being confronted with your own damn failures coming crashing down all at once. From experience Dean knew the phase of extreme self-punishment was going to blow over soon enough, even if the guilt wouldn’t go away. Cas on the other hand was getting increasingly antsy with worry. He barely left the vicinity of the kid’s room unless he absolutely had to join the Winchesters for some strategic planning. Most other times he was wandering up and down the hallway, asking Jack in sporadic intervals about his well-being. Dean was getting nervous just by witnessing the anxiety radiating off the angel. It got so bad that he was just about to send Cas out on a made-up errand to force the guy on a break when Cas came to him instead.

He appeared in the bunker kitchen in that unexpected way that made Dean wonder if he was secretly still able to zap around like in the old days. Without hesitation Dean grabbed a second bottle of beer from the fridge together with his own. Cas accepted the offering, taking the bottle from Dean’s outstretched hand. Dean ignored the traitorous stutter of disappointment his heart gave when their fingers didn’t accidentally touch. They sat down at the table, drinking the first few drags of beer in silence. It was a good excuse to study the angel closely. He looked concerned, not a trace of the semi-frequent hint of a smile that Dean had come to crave.

“Talk to me,” Dean finally broke the silence.

Even though the angel had clearly come with something on his mind, the straightforwardness seemed to startle him. He didn’t meet Dean’s eyes as he spoke. “I- uh. It’s about Jack.”

That wasn’t a surprise. “What about him?”

Cas took another gulp from his bottle in an unusually nervous gesture before answering. “I don’t know what to tell him. To take away his pain.”

Dean sighed. He wasn’t sure if he was the right person to talk about this just yet. “Listen, Cas. The kid’s going through some stuff right now. We’ve all been there. He’ll get over it.”

Whatever response he expected, it certainly wasn’t the absolutely heart-wrenching expression that hit him full force when Cas finally looked up from where he’d been staring holes into the table. Dean almost found himself grasping at something to keep his balance. The question in the angel’s eyes rang loud and clear.

_What if he doesn’t?_

Dean didn’t have an answer to that. They couldn’t afford Jack _not_ getting over it. He was their very last hope of winning. Their only hope. If the guilt was throwing the kid off his game… better not think of the consequences.

“He’s most concerned with making things up to you,” Cas said, holding Dean’s gaze imploringly. Fuck but those were some disarming eyes. The bastard didn’t even have the decency to give Dean a break by blinking every once in a while.

There was a lot Dean could have done at that moment. He could have volunteered to talk to Jack, or taken the chance to comfort the clearly distressed angel sitting across the table. He did neither, instead switching into pure defense mode, feigning innocence. “Me? Why _me_?”

Cas of course didn’t buy it for a second. Just tilted his head pityingly. “Dean.”

“Can’t Sam go talk to him? He enjoys being the hobby therapist among us.” The jab at his brother fell flat when it didn’t evoke the slightest reaction from the angel.

“ _Dean_.” This time it was a clear plea. One that took all of Dean’s willpower not to answer.

Luckily he was saved by the bell, or rather the ringtone of his cellphone. He jumped at the opportunity to escape the situation, never having been more thankful for Jody’s random check-in calls. She had taken to calling every other day since the whole Kaya situation and it was sweet but bordering overbearing. This time he received the conversation eagerly, fleeing guiltily from Cas’ all-too captivating eyes.

**...**

He hoped the weight on his conscience would ease up eventually but of course it didn’t. Not even well after midnight when even Cas stopped ghosting around in the hallways of the bunker, he couldn’t fall asleep for the life of him. There were easily a dozen reasons why Sam was definitely the safer choice when it came to dealing with a guilt-ridden teenage mutant ninja angel. For starters, the younger Winchester was more compassionate. Big on the right words. Conductor of the Empathy Train.

Oh for fuck’s sake, who was he kidding.

Like he stood a chance against Cas’ cursed baby blues.

Before it even fully registered with him that he was moving, he already found himself at the door to Jack’s room. He knocked carefully, almost in the hope that Jack was asleep and wouldn’t hear. Said hope was crushed by the nephilim’s strained voice. “I’m fine, Castiel.”

Dean swallowed once, suddenly nervous. “It’s me. Can I come in?”

There was a moment of hesitation during which Dean thought he’d never get an answer. Then the door opened. Jack looked a lot worse than when he’d last seen him. His clothes were rumpled, his eyes red from crying. He stepped aside, allowing Dean into his room. On the floor next to the bed was an untouched container of Chinese take-out that Cas must have brought him from their dinner.

“What can I do for you, Dean?” Jack asked as he sat down on his bed.

“I came to talk with you.” It was the truth, though Dean was unsure what exactly he should be saying to the kid.

“Did Castiel send you?”

“What! _No!_ ” That was… less of the truth. Jack seemed to catch on by the way he narrowed his eyes and tilted his head slightly. It was a gesture he had undeniably picked up from Cas. Great. Dean sighed, rubbing nervously at the back of his neck before spotting a chair in one corner of the room and pulling it up next to the bed. “Listen,” he said as he sat down. “I know you’re holding onto some stuff. But at some point you gotta let go.”

Jack’s eyes turned glassy with tears and it took him a long time before he finally spoke in a shaky voice. “How can I let go of what I’ve done? I’ve killed innocent people.”

Dean nodded. “So have I. So has Sam. And Cas. In our line of work… things go wrong.”

Jack sniffed and rubbed at his eyes with the sleeve of his sweater. “I tortured Lucifer. And… took pleasure in doing so.”

“Oh, he had it coming,” Dean reassured dryly, trying to hide his immeasurable discomfort with the emotional conversation. “‘Sides, we’ve all been there too. Having so much power… it’s intoxicating. Makes you lose yourself.”

“What if I didn’t lose myself? What if that’s who I really am...”

“You know what, Jack? Can’t say I haven’t thought of that.” At the harsh words, Jack lost his battle against the tears but Dean continued, albeit in a softer tone of voice. “But I don’t think it is. You’re better than that.”

“Dean… I _killed_ your mother…”

“Yeah.” Dean got up from his chair and started pacing the room as he felt his own vision blur. “Yeah you did. By accident.” He cleared his throat. Talking about this he had expected to be angry. Instead there was shame. “God knows I’ve done worse things on purpose.” The irony of the statement wasn’t lost on him, seeing as God had likely been the driving force behind a lot of those atrocities. Instead of thinking too much about that he looked at Jack, whose face had confusion written all over it. “We always do what we think is the best we can. Sometimes it bites us in the ass. Sometimes it’s worth it.”

“So I should strive for those times that are worth it,” Jack concluded, the confusion on his face making way for understanding. “Even though it might… not go well.”

“Exactly. It’s the Winchester way.” Dean chuckled humorlessly. “Comes with being part of the family.”

“Does this mean you forgive me?”

Dean took the few steps back toward the bed until he was close enough to lay a reassuring hand on Jack’s shoulder. He realized he was no longer doing this for Cas when the kid looked up at him with big innocent eyes, clearly afraid to be rejected. “This isn’t just about me forgiving you, kid,” he said softly. “You also gotta forgive yourself.” He squeezed Jack’s shoulder. “That being said… I do forgive you.” And he really, truly did, he realized with a start.

Not a moment passed after the realization before Jack rose up from the bed to throw his arms around Dean who couldn’t do much but pat the kid’s back with the same brotherly affection that was usually reserved for Sam. Dean let out a deep breath before stepping back and squeezing the kid’s shoulder one last time.

“Feelin’ better?” he asked.

“Yes, Dean,” Jack replied thoughtfully, his mannerisms again bearing a striking resemblance to Cas. “Castiel told me this would happen. I did not believe him.”

The statement was somewhat dumbfounding. “What?”

“He said… one day you’d breathe deeply and move on.”

The fact that Cas knew him well enough to come to that conclusion even before Dean himself had made him wonder what else the angel knew. It did a funny thing to his heart that was a mix between anxiety and affection. He was quick to overplay it with a chuckle.

“Well, don’t go believing everything Cas says just because he was right this time, ya hear?”

“I won’t,” Jack said almost dutifully and for a moment Dean was afraid that his joke hadn’t registered with him. The small smile tugging just at the corner of Jack’s mouth told him otherwise.

“Good.” With that Dean made his way toward the door. “Have a good night, kid.”

“Goodnight, Dean.”

**...**

It wasn’t until some time in the afternoon the next day that Cas appeared in the doorway of his room. Dean had just quickly dipped inside in search for his car keys and didn’t even notice him straight away. Hence the slightly undignified jump once he did. Cas’ hands were buried in the pockets of his coat like so often these days and when Dean glared at him halfheartedly for the jump-scare there was that damn smile again.

“Gotta stop sneakin’ up on me like that,” he chastised.

Cas steamrolled over the remark without so much as a blink. “Jack came out of his room today.”

“Oh?” Dean made what he hoped was a surprised face. “That’s good, isn’t it?”

“Yes. It is.” The angel stepped into the room. “Thank you for talking to him.”

“How’d you know it was me?”

“We tend to give the advice we ourselves find the hardest to follow.” Cas’ eyes softened inexplicably. “And he said it would not be easy to forgive himself.”

“Well,” Dean said thickly, getting ever so slowly lost in their little staring contest. “S’not supposed to be easy, is it?”

“I suppose not.” Cas agreed.

Something told Dean that maybe they weren’t just talking about forgiveness. The way Cas was looking at him made him uneasy in the sense that it took his breath away. Like he knew Dean inside and out. Which he did, Dean realized. He knew Dean from the depths of his soul to the scars on his skin. Still he sometimes looked at him with such… reverence. Especially when he thought Dean wasn’t looking. Though Dean would quite frankly rather die- _again_ \- than have a conversation about it.

Which is of course why when he spotted his keys on his nightstand he made a dash for them, successfully breaking the moment of electric tension between them. “Gotta fill up on gas while it’s cheap,” he mumbled awkwardly as he pushed past the now frowning angel, leaving him behind much like the day before.

“Dean, what-” Cas clearly didn’t understand him at that moment as Dean pushed past him. He had to get out so he would be able to breathe again, which was ridiculous. Cas had just been grateful, there was no need to get his own confused feelings mixed up with what the angel was saying. It was silly, that’s what it was. It had been silly eight years ago when all this confusion started, and it was still silly now.

In the hallway he carelessly bumped into Sam, who of course complained via bitch face. “Hey, what’s up with you?”

“Gotta drive,” Dean explained vaguely while not even stopping in his tracks. His brother easily fell into pace next to him. All hail those sasquatchian legs.

“Did something happen?”

“Nope. Just need to get outta here.”

Sam looked visibly dissatisfied with that answer but fell a couple of steps behind. Dean didn’t look back. If anything he picked up his pace, not stopping until he was at the garage.

He only gave himself a moment to breathe once he was comfortably enclosed in the safe haven that was the Impala. As his breathing evened out and his heart rate returned to somewhat of an acceptable rhythm, he felt his cheeks grow hot with embarrassment. Way to make a dramatic exit, Winchester.

The best plan of action was probably to ignore the panicked feeling in the pit of his stomach and just take it out on the open road by flooring the gas pedal. At least that would put him in control. Dean closed his eyes and swallowed around the lump in his throat. Focused on further calming himself.

He didn’t know how long he was sat there in silence, but when he opened his eyes he wasn’t alone in the garage any more. A familiar trench coat was visible through the window on the passenger side. “May I…?” Cas’ voice sounded muffled through the glass.

Dean rolled his eyes, well aware that the question came as a courtesy not as an offering of a serious choice. As expected the door opened and the angel climbed inside the car with a sigh and without waiting for an answer.

They both stared straight ahead for a long time without saying anything. Dean even thought the only noise he heard was his own breathing. The angel seemed perfectly silent.

Until he spoke again.

“What are you running from?”

Way to ask a loaded fucking question.

“Gee, where do I start?” Dean replied sarcastically. There were more than enough reasons to bail. Death monitoring them. The literal demons from their past returning. God waiting to strike them down.

_Three words he_ _should_ _say before it was too late._

Ironically, it was the latter that made the pending Doomsday to end all Doomsdays seem the most real. It was such a potent reminder that their time was running out. And Dean wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready for the big emotional speech where Sam and Cas and Jack would look at him, ready to fucking die but not without one hell of a fight. Dean’s thoughts were getting scrambled all over the place as he felt his earlier panic return twofold.

He couldn’t think of the very real chance that maybe Jack wasn’t strong enough.

He didn’t dare think of the possibility that all of this was _still part of Chuck’s plan_.

Just another way to toy with his feelings.

Maybe that’s why he’d sent Cas to fetch him from Hell to begin with?

And besides everything else going on _that_ was the scariest thought he’d ever had in his life. A thought he’d been avoiding like the plague until this moment. Because it couldn’t be, could it? Chuck couldn’t have thought _that_ far ahead. He was too far up his own ass. There was no way he could have expected both of them to fall, literally and figuratively, all those years ago.

But Dean had to admit it was oddly convenient that Cas had always disappeared when things were going smoothly and they had everything under control, only to return and completely throw Dean off his game in the moments that mattered. He’d never had a friend, a true best friend, outside his brother. That siren from way back when had been a painful eye-opener to how much he wanted one, though. Surely Chuck must have known that.

So where did that leave them...

“Are you here because you want to be… or because Chuck makes you be?”

He didn’t dare look at Cas, even as he felt the angel’s eyes on him.

“Dean…” Cas sounded confused and more than a little hurt. “I am disconnected from Heaven. I haven’t questioned my Fall in years. What makes you think I am… conspiring? With God, no less?”

“I don’t think _that_ ,” Dean back-paddled. “Just. He made it clear that all our lives he _let_ us live. That he tossed people into our path, only to take ‘em away. To break us. But you… he lets _you_ stay?”

“Listen to me, Dean,” Cas started, clearly prepared to monologue. But this wasn’t the time.

“No, Cas. Don’t. I know you think this is just me being… I dunno. A dick? That’s not how I meant it. I just… How the fuck are we supposed to trust ourselves?”

A sudden hand on his shoulder startled him, forcing his eyes away from the windshield and to the passenger seat of his car. Once again he was naively unprepared for the emotional force behind Cas’ eyes. “We have to,” he said, voice gravely serious. “Because he wants us to question each other. We must not fall for his scheme. That’s all it is, Dean. A scheme. Chuck is a con-artist. You’ve seen what he’s done to the other worlds, yet somehow this one he cannot erase on a whim. We have never played by his rules.” There was a pause during which Cas’ eyes grew soft.  
“He has tried to take me out of your lives. You brought me back, every time. Without fail. Why?”

Dean sighed at the rhetorical question, pressing his lips into a thin line. Physically restraining the words from coming out this time.

Thankfully, Cas continued. “Chuck is not a masochist. He’s always been a sadist. If he had a choice, he would not have let things go on for as long as he has.”

“So what’re we supposed to do? Have _F_ _aith_?” Dean scoffed, hating the way is voice was on the verge of breaking every time he tried to speak.

“Yes.” Against all expectations, that small not-really-there smile painted familiar wrinkles around Cas’ eyes. Seriously, what did the bastard have to smile about _now_ in the middle of Dean’s crisis. “Clearly not in God, but in each other. In family.” With that Cas gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze before the touch disappeared altogether.

_In family._

Sometimes Cas had thrown that word into Dean’s face. Deservedly. Lately, however, he had taken to using it a lot more as an anchor, both for himself and others. Right now, Dean couldn’t quite wrap his mind around the calmness that descended over him like a freak wave. How the hell Cas always managed this would forever be a mystery.

Dean was aware that it was probably his turn to say something but he couldn’t without risk. Even wrapped in a blanket of calmness, he still felt the itch on his tongue. And frankly, there was a big chance it wasn’t going away this time.

“Still want to drive?” Cas asked, casually shifting his weight in the car seat as he turned his head away from Dean.

Instead of an answer, Dean started the car. The engine’s familiar rumble further added to his peace of mind. He carefully maneuvered the Impala out of the garage and onto the road. Instead of driving toward Lebanon’s city limits he chose one of the less frequented back roads. Now with the stretch of the open road ahead, and the quiet angel next to him he felt incredibly dumb for letting his fears get the better of him.

“Hey, uh. Cas,” he started. “You’re right about what you’ve said. About… family.”

Cas just hummed thoughtfully in response. Dean’s eyes were darting nervously between the road markings in front of him and Cas’ face. It was impossible to know exactly what the angel was thinking.

“And I hope you’re also right about Chuck because… I can’t do this without you, man. What I said in Purgatory, about just letting you go… I won’t do that again. No matter what.”

“I am not going anywhere,” Cas reassured him honestly.

Suddenly it felt as good a time as ever to give in. What if he never got a chance otherwise?

“I know you said you heard me. When I prayed. But, uh. There’s something I didn’t get to say.” Dean’s hands were holding onto the steering wheel in a hard enough death grip to turn his knuckles white. “Cas, I-”

“Please don’t say it, Dean. Not now. Not out of fear.”

The unexpected interruption caused the car to swerve ever so slightly before Dean regained control. “But- you don’t even know what I was gonna say!”

“I think I do. And believe me, I quite share the sentiment. You don’t have to say it.”

Granted, those weren’t the words he’d imagine to get as a reply, even without actually saying anything first. Still, it was such an undeniably _Cas_ way of talking around things that there was little doubt in Dean’s mind that they were on the same page.

“Son of a bitch,” he said, struggling to keep the wonder out of his voice. All this time Cas had known. Of course he’d fucking known. Dean had always been a terrible actor, as much as he hated that fact.

“Just drive, Dean.” The smile in Cas’ voice was unmistakable.

The Impala gave a roar as it sped up. The angel was right, this wasn’t the time for rushed confessions, but at least Dean now knew that there would be a time in the future.

For now, silently _sharing the sentiment_ was enough.

  
  



End file.
